


It's Only a Little Bit

by Argent_Vulpine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude is clueless, F/M, Food, Minor Spoilers, Mostly Fluff, referenced character death, sharing is caring, what is a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: Claude learns that Byleth does not like to share her favorite dishes with anyone, not even her father, but does that always remain the case?
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	It's Only a Little Bit

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/aimoahmed/status/1162046783213588480?s=19) and I had a lot of fun with it  
> 

Their new professor was very difficult to read. Her apparent lack of expression, somewhat monotonous way of speaking, and overall mannerisms led many to believe that she didn’t really feel… anything. That this must be related to her moniker of ‘Ashen Demon’. But after several weeks of watching his new professor, Claude could say at least one thing for certain: Teach _did not_ like to share her food.

She would take her meals in the dining hall, often sharing space with students from all the houses, and while she didn’t turn down meals with Edelgard and Dimitri, she took meals with them less than she did any with Claude, though he attributed that to being the house leader under her direct supervision. Not one for small talk, she often sat and ate in silence while her dining companions chatted around her.

He wondered if she was simply gathering information on everyone the same sort of way that he did.

Claude discovered his new favorite fact about the professor quite accidentally. He’d been sitting with Hilda and Lysithea, discussing their latest skirmish and how things could have gone differently, when he saw Jeralt join his daughter at the table, Leonie in tow.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was easy enough to guess. Leonie had gestured at the food, her head tilted in that way that typically indicated inquisitive confusion. Jeralt’s laugh was loud enough to be heard several tables over; he’d reached out with a fork to his daughter’s plate, clearly intending to spear a piece of fish on it, when the professor had blocked him with her own fork.

This went on for a few bouts, the Blade Breaker himself trying to steal a piece of food from the professor, before she gave the most annoyed look Claude had ever seen on her face. “Get your own, dad,” she’d said, loudly enough to be distinct, before picking up her plate and moving to another table, settling down beside Yuri, who gave her a bemused expression before resuming his own meal.

It took a few more weeks of watching – and testing – for Claude to learn that the professor only minded sharing meals when they were things she really liked. Daphnel Stew? No one could touch it. That vegetable pasta salad monstrosity? If someone wanted a bite of that, Byleth had no issues sharing it. She’d gone so far as to push the whole plate at people who asked, before, such seemed to be her dislike of it.

Over time, he figured he had a solid idea of her general food preferences, what she liked the most, what she disliked.

He hadn’t learned a whole lot else about his professor, but at least he had that.

“Heya Teach,” he said, plopping himself down beside her, a plate full of skewered meat in hand. It was a dish he knew that she liked; it was one he liked, as well, so he couldn’t fault her there. “I had some questions about your last assignment, if you don’t mind me picking your brain about them over dinner?”

“I don’t mind,” she said, taking a bite of the pickled rabbit.

This close to her, he could see the way her face softened – just the tiniest bit – with enjoyment. It was… oddly cute, in a way.

He tried a bite of his own, giving a soft hum of approval, before he launched into his questions. He knew she probably was aware it was more information gathering on his part, since some of his questions were about if she’d ever used these tactics before herself, but he was genuinely interested in the battle formations she’d brought up during their lesson, wanting to know the finer details as to _why_ certain ones did better than others.

She would answer him between bites of food, at one point even using a now-empty skewer to sketch out a formation, the movement of the sharp tip drawing his eye and helping him to better visualize what she was talking about.

“Oh, I see now!” He was about to ask another question when he saw Hilda hovering at the edge of the dining hall, looking at him and waving him over urgently. “Looks like duty calls.” Claude glanced down at his plate, a lone skewer remaining untouched. “Say, Teach, do you want this? I don’t think I’m going to have a chance to finish it.”

He didn’t miss the way her eyes honed in on the skewer, or the hesitation when she almost reached out to grab it. “Are you sure? I can watch it until you can get back.”

“Nah, I have a feeling this is gonna take a while. Go for it,” he replied, nudging the plate over her way. Just a smidge.

As he was leaving, he glanced back and saw her pause over the skewer before taking it and adding it to her plate. He was pretty sure it didn’t last much longer.

It was a sure sign of her grief when, after Jeralt’s death, she shoved her bowl of stew at him and left the dining hall, not having had a single bite.

Claude couldn’t bring himself to eat it, instead passing it off to Raphael, who had no problems inhaling what was probably his third serving that evening.

He tried not to think about what it might mean, that she’d given it to him instead of just walking away.

After five years, he’d almost forgotten about the way Byleth treated her food, the fact that she didn’t share her favorite dishes with, well… _anyone_. They sat across from each other, each with a bowl of Daphnel Stew, and discussed their next move. Claude was nearly done with his, pushing the spoon around to find another piece of onion, when a spoon appeared in his field of vision, dumping a few into his bowl.

He looked up in time to see Byleth giving him a soft smile, one that quickly disappeared as she scooped up another bite of her stew, happily chewing away at the minced meat.

As the war progressed, little instances like that became more common. An extra forkful of pike when he’d devoured all of his, a bit of spiced pheasant and egg, extra cheese from the Gautier gratin.

After a while, he started returning the favor. An extra bit of meat from a Gronder skewer, a spoonful of minced poultry from his stew, egg scrambles and whatever else he knew she liked but had never said outright was her favorite part of the dishes.

It became a habit, after a while, getting the same meal from the dining hall and exchanging for favorite bits from each other’s dishes. He hadn’t even really noticed it had become a thing until Hilda commented on it.

“Sooooo…” she began, drawing the word out in a way that made him cringe. “What’s going on between you and the professor?” Her tone was all sugary-sweet innocence.

He didn’t believe that tone for even a second. “What do you mean?”

“You’re sharing _meals_ , Leader Man.”

“We always share meals, Hilda. Teach and I do some of our best strategizing over dinner.”

“That’s not what I mean! The food itself. The professor _never_ shares dishes she likes, not with anyone! We all know _that_.”

He paused, looking up from the papers on the desk, and frowned. “She doesn’t like to share her favorite bits,” he finally muttered, so quiet Hilda almost didn’t hear him.

Almost.

She gave a shrill, excited shriek, making him wince. “That’s not true! She would never share any of it with anyone but you!” The grin on her face was so big and bright he almost wondered if he could use it as an offensive tactic. “Are you two dating finally? Is that what’s going on? Ooh, I have _got_ to tell Marianne, she’ll never believe you finally did it!”

“Wha-… that’s not… no! We’re not… there’s nothing going on…” Claude spluttered, half-standing, cheeks blazing with heat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” Hilda crossed her arms in front of her, tapping her fingers in thought. “So you aren’t dating? You should. She clearly likes you, too.”

And without giving him a chance to say anything to the contrary, she left the room, bouncing on her feet and clearly ready to share what she thought was a juicy bit of gossip.

He fell back into his seat with a _thump_ and buried his head in his hands, groaning softly. Was he really that obvious?

Was _Byleth_ really that obvious? How had he missed that sign?

Claude straightened up, one hand curling into a fist as he resolved to figure it out.

He waited to see what dish she chose that evening; he knew that the night’s menu held more than one that they both liked. When she walked off with a plate of the pickled rabbit skewers, he opted for the pike, and then joined her at the table, as usual.

She glanced down at his plate, a momentary look of confusion gracing her features before it vanished as quickly as all her expressions seemed to.

“Hey Teach. Oh, man, those skewers look good,” he said, settling comfortably into his seat. “But the pike just smelled too good to pass up. Shame they won’t let us get two plates at a time… though if they did, I’m sure Raph would eat us all out of the monastery.” He paused, considering. “Well, I don’t think I could eat that much in one sitting anyway, honestly.”

“It was a difficult decision,” she finally settled on saying, picking up one of her skewers and nibbling thoughtfully on the meat. “Maybe…”

“Hm? Maybe what?” he asked around a bite of fish.

“Oh, uh… I was just thinking maybe we could swap. Midway through. If you wanted?”

Claude tried his best to hide his smirk behind the rim of his glass as he took a drink, for all the world looking like he was taking his time considering the offer. “Sure. Then we’d get the best of both worlds, right?”

She gave him a small smile. “Something like that.”

The topic turned to their usual, plans for the next battle, and what was after that, assuming they won. When each of their plates were half-eaten, they exchanged them, not breaking their conversation. Deep down, Claude felt a rush of surprise and… optimism. A cautious sprig of hope began to bloom.

Whatever had happened, whatever was between them, that one moment led to a change to their routine that he’d never in a million years could have expected. They began to coordinate dinners, each choosing a dish that they would swap halfway through.

He could almost _feel_ Hilda’s gloating. She was never going to let him live this down, but…

If everything worked out in the end, it was so worth it.

Many, many months later, at the wedding of Queen Byleth of Fódlan to King Khalid of Almyra, their closest friends shared knowing grins when the happy couple chose their favorite bits of the wedding feast and fed each other.


End file.
